


Two Peas in a Pod

by calleryfield



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: cant really tell if its really a shipping but whatever take my shit, i cant recall if i wrote it to be incredibly gory, its kind of gory?, something I wrote a long time ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9916226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calleryfield/pseuds/calleryfield
Summary: At first, we both stood on different grounds: I was just average and you were part of the top ranking. In the end, I realized that you and I were more like than I thought, and I destroyed the person that I could actually talk to: my friend.





	1. Chapter 1

_"You seem off today," the white-haired teen muttered, turning away from his best friend. His best friend, however, turned toward the other, baffled by the sudden question._

_"What do you mean?" The friend retorted back, a slight tone of irritation shrouding his speech. With such a speech, the white-haired boy looked at the brown-haired boy almost immediately. The taller, paler boy gave a sheepish smile toward his dearest friend before turning his head forward._

_At the moment, the two were walking together outside of their precious school, in hopes to find a tranquil place to relax. Of course, they had found a place a while ago, as they now walk by the vast river of Towa City. The sun had yet to rise above the horizon, and people too have not gotten out of bed just yet. The streets hardly have any cars driving by, making any sort of ruckus that would have ruined their "peaceful" place. This time of day was specifically why the place became their place to relax and hang out. No one else was there, and it really was nice to see some fog before going to school. To them, it felt… soothing, so to speak. It was as though they were in a dream, but it was far too vivid to be a dream — a perfect transition from a sleepy mood to the alert mindset that a student would need for school._

_Staring out toward the river as they walked on, the albino spoke up, "Well, lately, it seems you've been getting...quieter. Of course, I guess that would just be me talking all the time. Sorry," his voice trailed off as his eyes focused on his feet._

_"What? No," the other boy sighed, adjusting the backpack strap on his shoulder, "i-it's just because…" The albino tilted his head, curious of what his friend has to say. Nothing. It just became absolutely quiet after the brown-haired male tried to make something up, so his friend would not be worried. "Look, it's just been pretty hectic at school is all… You know, with…"_

_"Average things?" The paler male gave out a mildly disappointed expression to his friend's reply. "Of all the students accepted, I really thought you would have been different though. After all, you seemed to genuinely like the school, rather than like it just because of the title. I thought that you would have at least excelled or something along those lines. I guess I was wrong about you, huh?"_

_"N-no!" They both stopped in their trail. The darker male looked directly into his companion's eyes in determination to prove him wrong. "I'm not having problems with that! It's just… It's a pretty tough transition between my old school to Hope's Peak."_

_"Ah!" His brightened friend gasped, "Oh! Yes! That's understandable then," he looked up at the sky, which was now lightening up as the sun came around, "But you'll get used to it. After all, you really liked this place, so it should be just fine, right?" The quiet friend simply nodded. "You got to a school that you always wanted to, so things will work out just fine for you. So don't worry, okay?" Another nod without an expression. Not another word was spoken between the two as they walked on; their thoughts kept away from each other, and the two disappeared slowly, letting the fog consume them without a single evidence left of their existence._

I open my eyes after the sudden flashback to a black room. It's hard to see anything beyond what was before me. However, there is one bright fluorescent light right above me that only shone down around me. There, sharing my spotlight, is a large metal table that was at least eight feet long, accompanied by a much tinier table that can be rolled around by the plastic black wheels attached to the bottom. The tiny table is topped by a large set of tools. Immediately I know that these tools are meant for surgery: all sorts of cutting tools for precision and accuracy of different sizes. Laying strapped onto the large table was him.

"What were you thinking about?" His strange, familiar voice and smile strikes me cold, causing me to feel shivers. What made it seem all the more strange is his entire situation: he is fastened down as though he is insane. Confused by the whole scenario, I wanted to ask him why and what's going on.

"Nothing that you need to know." I feel my mouth moves unwillingly, emitting an emotionless, deep voice.

More questions begin to pile up in my mind. How am I doing that? I didn't even want to say that to him. I just wanted to know what was happening and why. I feel my body walk itself over towards the small table; when it moves, I couldn't really feel it move — I just know as my sight began to change: things coming closer and suddenly out of sight. I begin to question if this is a dream; that would make sense since I could not control myself, but because I am thinking this way, wouldn't that mean I am awake?

"Did you perhaps get an old memory from your old self?" Nagito continues his own questions to me. My old self? What is he talking about? I'm still me. How can I be someone new?

"I do not 'get' memories. They were always retained somewhere in my mind." The hollow voice mutters. I feel a slight irritation within myself, but once again, I have to wonder why. The question didn't annoy me whatsoever.

"Ah! Sorry, sorry!" Nagito chuckles before closing his eyes, shielding his gray eyes away from me. "I didn't mean to anger you! I just wanted to ask what you were thinking about."

No response from myself. I want to console him and say he wasn't bugging me, but it was like my jaws and tongue were resisting my control over my mouth. My OWN mouth. What the hell is going on?

My arm reaches out for one of the surgery tools: a scalpel with a relatively long blade. My hand brings the scalpel close to my face to examine it, turning it side to side before Nagito speaks again.

"So we're finally going to start?" Wait. Start what?

No response from myself again.

"Well, I'm really happy that we're doing this actually. If there's anyway I could help with this project of hope, so be it." He continues to smile. Oh, you got to be kidding me. I feel like I know what's going to happen. I want to deny that idea, but it seems like I fully understand the situation.

The hand holding the scalpel came closer to Nagito. The other hand moves his shirt up, revealing his pale torso.

"So this is it, huh?" Nagito keeps his eyes staring straight up. His smile is not as goofy as it was before; instead, it is a soft smile, a hint of hope and trust — a genuine smile that I have never seen him have before. He turns to me and looks straight into my eyes as the scalpel begins to touch his skin at the belly. "See you then, Hajime."

"Hajime's gone." I hear myself say right before plunging the scalpel deep into Nagito's belly. I hear him gasp and wail at the pain.

My body keeps cutting Nagito apart without me wanting to do so. I want to stop myself. I want to scream at myself to stop. No matter how hard I struggle to move my muscles, it would not budge. I'm stuck watching myself pull Nagito, my best friend, apart. I feel so much anger and horror within myself, but that never stopped my body from destroying my friend, his blood and intestines falling out of his corpse whenever it was possible. His screams grow weaker and soon stopped.

My hands aredeep inside his stomach, groping around for whatever my body is looking for. My hands stop and bring the scalpel inside his corpse to cut something away from the body. When my hand pulls out, it is holding an organ that everyone knows too well: it was the heart. However immediately, I know there was something wrong with it. It seems so small and the blood seems too dark to be normal.

"Is this where the talent lies?" I hear myself say before seeing myself throw the heart across the room. "How was no hope in that one. Too weak." The low voice speaks. I don't want to listen anymore. I don't want to see my friend's corpse that I pointlessly cut apart. I'm ashamed for doing that unwillingly. Even if I couldn't control myself, I feel so disgusted at my own being that I wanted to disappear.

So, as my body begins to leave the spotlight, away into the darkness, I shut my mind from the rest of the world, letting myself go and succumb to my body's soul.


	2. A Faded Spirit

He stood looking from a distance at the scene. The scene of two figures: one identical to him and another of a friend a long time ago. The imagery of them walking to an unknown place together — thought it’s a simple thought — seems like a dream — something he felt is intangible. The warmth from the blinding sunlight gazed down as the other figure talked away about whatever curios and odd topics that he always talked about. The soft autumn breeze that brushed by as the other spoke in his smooth tone, ever so gentle and soothing to listen to. The steps they would take together; the questions that the other would inquire had a drumming beat that’d keep repeating in his head as they walked on; the difficulty of the questions would always make his mind hurt. Yet even so, all the feelings he can recall from those walks felt real in those memories.

But as he stood, watching the two figures walk further away from him, there was a slight tinge of pain in his chest that he couldn’t fathom. Something that he seemed to understand yet wanted wholeheartedly to reject. Something so important that he didn’t want to see ever again, looking it out of his mind and focusing on this very scene.

He listened more closely to the scene before him, the way the two figures kept their eyes forward as they walked. He tried to walk closer to the two figures, but to no avail, he couldn’t get closer. Still, he tried to hear as much as he could. Repetition of the words “average” and “boring” were heard from the other figure’s lips. And those two simple words resurface that burning pains he had felt before. All those words directed to him — the “other” him that walked by that figure. The words stung as though they were spoken next to him. It was like he really was walking by the other on that day. He remembered this scene from a long time ago. Out of the many times he has walked this blurry path before him, he still remembered this certain talk because of the sharp pain he felt. It was one of the many memories he had come across ever since he has been wavering in and out of existence.

But why this memory?

Why of all the memories did his mind recall this one?

His heart dropped as he kept listening on, watching as the figures began to fade away into the scene.  
Perhaps it is because deep down, he did believe what the other had told him. The things the figure said before he defended himself from those blunt words. He didn’t want to, but now that he’s here again, reflecting and repeating these memories, perhaps it is true. After all, if he wasn’t average, he wouldn’t be in the state that he’s in.

And then he remembered the one memory he’s suppressed, trying hard to forget and clear it out of his thoughts. He regretted it. It ate away at him about the way he is and the results of the way he is. After all this time, after seeing that scene, watching the blood pour from his friend’s body and drip from his hands, seeing his hands bury itself into the body and retrieve that heart only to toss it aside like a toy. Cold. Everything was so cold. And all of this happened all because of his body’s own intentions that he couldn’t comprehend.

“If it wasn’t for you…” Words echoed in his mind, “If it wasn’t for the way you are, all this could’ve been avoided.” Those words would repeat again and again every time he recalled that gory scene.

“But it couldn’t be helped,” a voice that used belong to him stated behind him. It rang so clearly — louder than his own thoughts.

“It couldn’t be helped?” He wondered. But there was no point in retorting back. He’s lost control for so long. He wanted to stop it all. He wanted control back to atone for the things he couldn’t control. To apologize and end it all, but that wouldn’t solve anything. His friend was gone by his hands and his own existence was that of smoke — appearing, disappearing, and reappearing time and time again.

He felt himself starting to slip away from his presence again.

“It’s better this way,” His old voice assured coldly.

Things begin to feel heavy. Things are fading from sight. All the memories he had recalled while he was here are starting to leave his mind again; they slipped away so easily. He tried to remember them again to keep his existence here, but he couldn’t remember at all. Soon, his mind came to a halt — a blank slate.

He was gone again to an indefinite sleep, only doomed to repeat this all over again.


End file.
